Vie For Dominance
by Skye12
Summary: Rose knows very well that men tend to have contests, compete for a lady, and practical joke, but she never expected such behavior from a gentlehobbit such as Frodo Baggins. I suppose Pippin brings out the worst in all of us. No Slash


Vie For Dominance  
  
Rose Cotton, being a lass of the precise age when the "complex" functionings of the minds of hobbit men as well as hobbit women are becoming quite clear in her head, knew one thing was always of solidarity: All hobbit men, on some occasion or another, prove themselves to be irrefutably and unmistakably male. Having so many brothers sped up her learning on the matter. But this decided maleness was not solely confined to the Cotton farm and, as Rose quickly discovered, not wholly to the farming community nor, as Rose less quickly learned, not wholly to the refined and gentlehobbity nor the whole of hobbitdom. Yes Rose was an observant girl.  
  
What was this anomaly: This rhythmic, predictable pattern of assertive maleness? As Rose witnessed in her brothers Nick and Jolly it was an engaging battle for dominance over the other. She watched it develop curiously, this playful rivalry that compelled them to compete in every menial way until it drove their mother absolutely mad. Then she witnessed it in her brother Tom when he was courting Marigold Gamgee. The need to impress a lady. Again she bore witness to this plague of maleness when her youngest brother Nibs fought to earn her father's approval, a difficult task for the youngest son. He struggled hard to be accounted worthy among his brothers. He met up to par and Rose was astounded once again by this undying trait in all hobbit men.  
  
After years of following this pattern with her own brothers as well as their pals, the neighbors, and even the Gamgee boys, Rose was quite convinced no male could possibly shock her. And so you'd be amazed to know her confustication when she found the very same traits fit into the person of one Master of Bag-End Frodo Baggins Esquire.  
  
Master Baggins, being well into his forties, was a mature and refined gentlehobbit to say the least. Most certainly not one to debase himself into such ridiculous contest such as spitting or chopping wood or anything of the like, right?  
  
Rose met him on numerous occasions and knew him to be, not only the new proprietor of Bag-End on the Hill (heir to the reputably eccentric Bilbo Baggins, I'm sure you've heard of him) but also the kind and charming master to Sam Gamgee. Ever since she was a child she remembered Master Frodo's visits. He'd come along often with Master Bilbo and the Gamgee brood when harvest time came along. The Cottons had a notoriously large and fertile farm and it took much of the community's combined efforts to perform a proper harvest, which often led to generous feasting in the party field hosted by none other than Bilbo Baggins. The gentlehobbits were an oddity among the farming community but a welcomed help nonetheless, and their engaging lore was always the preferred entertainment, by the hobbitlings at least.  
  
After Bilbo mysteriously disappeared Frodo had made himself scarcer and she worried for him. If not for Sam's assurance and Frodo's occasional visits she would have thought that he disappeared as well. Frodo would often stop by the Cotton's when he was going to visit Tuckborough since the road always led him past their land and he saw it only polite to stop by to say hello and ask about the family and the crops. Her mother loved him like a son. Rose believed that she was taken in by his cordiality and endless manners. It was true, his charm was inescapable. So Mrs. Cotton was always capable of persuading the young master to stay a day or so before continuing on his journey to visit the Tooks.  
  
So it was really no special occasion when Frodo returned from Tuckborough with his young cousin Peregrin. The twenty-five year old hobbit lad proved to be Frodo's undoing. They had no intention of imposing on the Cotton's long but Mrs. Cotton knew nothing of Peregrin's mischievous ways and invited them to stay nonetheless.  
  
"Oh Mr. Frodo, dear, would you be able to help me with this?" came Rose's mother's voice from the kitchen. The three hobbits that were sitting on the porch, enjoying the day, Rose, Frodo, and young Peregrin, turned inside the house. All three entered curiously to find Mrs. Cotton reaching into the cupboard on her tiptoes.  
  
Frodo chuckled and stepped forward. "Twould be my honour, Missus."  
  
Mrs. Cotton sank down and dusted her hands, scowling into the cupboard as if whatever she could not reach was insulting her. "Good lad, I can't stand these mice."  
  
Frodo halted midstride. "Did you say mice, ma'am?"  
  
"Yes, bloody mice, we set the traps for 'em but they don't come. We's either got the strangest mice as don't eat cheese or they be outsmarting old Tom at that. But I got the little sneak cornered now."  
  
"You were going to catch it with your hand, ma'am? What if he bit at you?" Frodo hesitated a moment. He recalled his cousin in Brandy Hall got bitten by a rodent and got a strange fever from it. The lad got dreadfully sick by the vermin.  
  
"Afraid of a little squeaker, cousin?" snickered Pippin.  
  
Frodo's eyes smouldered in a way Rose had never seen before. "They can carry all sorts of disease," retorted Frodo. "I wouldn't want Mrs. Cotton down with a fever. It's an awful malady but it's sure to happen at times."  
  
"No sir," laughed Mrs. Cotton. "He's just a common field mouse, not a rat or the likes."  
  
"If Frodo's right, mum," said Rose, "I don't think either of you should be reaching in there." A sensible statement if ever there was one, Rose should have known better. It took just that to make Frodo blush and Pippin laugh. Apparently some insult to Frodo's hobbithood was made. A lady defending his reasoning. Before Frodo's own maleness kicked in Pippin's leapt ahead.  
  
"I'll do it, madam," he said proudly, striding up to the cupboard and thrusting his hand in. He felt around for a while before yelping and pulling back his hand. "Little rotter's bit me!"  
  
"Hah," snorted Frodo. Rose quirked an eyebrow at the gentlehobbit. Pippin shot a glare in Frodo's direction. Rose recognized that.  
  
A challenge was made.  
  
She turned to Frodo. A wry and smug grin spread across his face.  
  
And was accepted.  
  
Without another word Frodo stepped up to the dragon's den and reached his hand in. He peered over the food tentatively, hovering his hand above the place where the mouse could be heard. He moved it a little further down and then pinched the tail between his fingers. Loud squeaks were heard followed by the culprit dangling from Frodo's triumphant fingers. He waved it in front of Pippin's nose for good measure and then gave the irritated vermin a gentle toss out the door. The sparkling, victorious grin on Frodo's face, Rose knew, stung of painful defeat to Pippin. Revenge would soon be sought.  
  
Far too soon for Rose's liking, but she made a point to keep a close watch on the two ever since. Things might get interesting, you can never be sure. So it was of no surprise when the three were sitting peacefully on the fence, Frodo reading a book aloud and Pippin, chewing on a blade of grass and obviously not listening, Rose heard above Frodo's animated voice her father call, "Boys some works gotta be done!"  
  
Frodo and Pippin's heads perked up like dogs being tempted with a slab of meat. A light shone in their eyes and they locked opposing stares for an instant before dashing away toward the lumbar yard. Rose grabbed the discarded book and followed eagerly.  
  
"Chopping wood, oh stars no!" she thought as they bounded over the fields toward the lumbar yard. Rose's brothers were already there, unbuttoning their shirts and hefting up their axes. Frodo and Pippin eagerly and wordlessly did the same. Mr. Cotton, being a hobbit that appreciated hard work for all, beamed proudly at the boys then turned to his only daughter. "Cows could use a milking too."  
  
"Yes, Da." It was alright, the barn door was open and she was in perfect view to see who would win this challenge.  
  
As she was getting the stool and bucket she already heard sounds of chopping followed by a high, impressed whistle and a "Clean bit of work there, Mr. Frodo!" Apparently one of her brothers was impressed. Sounded like Tom. Pippin would not take this well.  
  
As quick as she could scurry, Rose positioned herself in full view of the scene, between the cow's legs. She saw Frodo moved the ax steadily, almost wielded it like a swordsman. He had one foot steady on the stump, the other on the ground and a shrinking pile of logs to one side with a neat stack of chopped faggots on the other. He swung swiftly, oftentimes one stroke cleaving the log cleanly. He was smiling radiantly, his braces down and his shirt unbuttoned, Rose had never seen a gentlehobbit work like that before, he looked just like a farming boy and right proud of it to. Frodo Baggins was some oddity.  
  
Peregrin had done the same, braces down and shirt unbuttoned but he was still a lanky lad underneath it all. His limbs were long and not very muscled yet he had a spryness that Frodo did not. He had a bounce in his knees and, even though it took him two swings to cleave the log he moved swifter somehow. He had a rhythm to him, something that said he did this often enough for his hands to be used to the ax but not too often for it to become a chore. That's what he had on Frodo. Frodo never chopped wood. Bag- End was small and did not require much firewood for the winter and Sam took care of that. Despite Frodo's finesse Pippin had completed his task and leaned mockingly on his ax waiting for his cousin to do the same. When all was done Frodo wiped his brow, took a breath, then shot a scowl into Pippin's smirking face. Pippin just tapped his nose and grinned.  
  
Rose shook her head and set aside the two buckets she filled to the brim with milk. She put away the stool and hefted both buckets to bring inside. Swaying slightly she attempted to balance herself and walked unsteadily past the boys as they finished their tasks. She was chuckling a bit to herself. Rose found this rivalry particularly amusing, perhaps because they were not her brothers but refined and well-bread gentlehobbits engaging in these ridiculous games. As she passed she tripped slightly and the buckets swayed, some milk sloshing about. Just as she was about to lose her footing a strong arm wrapped around her waist. She looked up to see Frodo steadily balancing her and flashing her a bashful, lopsided smile.  
  
She grinned, he obviously was not quite aware yet of what he just had done. But she was. "Why thank you, Mr. Frodo, such chivalry." Just then Frodo's eyes lit up and the same smug grin graced his sly features as he flashed his smile at Pippin. The Took was not so easily defeated, scowling he raced up and took the buckets from Rose.  
  
"Those must be heavy, my lady, please allow me."  
  
She smiled. Perhaps this was going to be more interesting than she first thought it would be.  
  
She could nearly feel the intensity between the cousins the whole walk home. Every so often Frodo would say, with infinite sweetness and concern, "Are those buckets heavy for you, dear Pip, would you like me to carry them a while?" Which was always responded with a polite but stern (and perhaps and little harsh), "No, cousin, I'm quite alright."  
  
By the third time Frodo asked Pippin was beginning to get irritated. "They're not heavy at all," he flaunted.  
  
Rose grinned, that was a mistake for Pippin. Frodo just turned to Rose, smiled like a wolf, then back to Pippin. "Well then I'm sure our Rose here could have handled them, do you think she's some sort of weakling, Pip?"  
  
Ouch. Frodo was gaining fast.  
  
Pippin paused for a moment then grumbled, then smiled and said, "Not at all, but it's only polite not to force a lady to bear a burden if she need not."  
  
Sorry Frodo.  
  
Rose grinned, "He's good," she thought. "Especially for so young. Why, he might just win this. Poor Mr. Frodo." Little did she know how premature her pity was.  
  
The conversation had fled to the wood chopping tournament they just unofficially experienced. The comments were becoming snippy and by the end Rose was rolling her eyes and dreading for them to start comparing sweat stains and calluses next. She thanked the stars they did not.  
  
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Supper time came swiftly and Rose was beginning to wonder when the next challenge might arise when she heard her mother rushing about the smial calling, "Tom! Nibs! Blast where are those boys?"  
  
Rose left the stew she had been stirring and wiped her hands on her apron. "They're out with Da mixing the fertilizers."  
  
"Oh bother," she heard her mother grumble. "Jolly and Nick when mushroom hunting by the creek. Go steal one of your brothers from that father of yours and tell them we need to send someone to get them for supper."  
  
"Yes, Mum."  
  
Frodo had been in the room he and Pippin were sharing for the duration of their stay when he heard of Mrs. Cotton's predicament. With such integral innocence that Rose could have sworn he had forgotten all about his rivalry, he volunteered to find the boys. Of course Pippin had forgotten no such thing and insisted he accompany his cousin. This seemed to strike Frodo's memory and he narrowed his eyes at his cousin dubiously. Rose could not let this opportunity slip away.  
  
"I'll go with them, Mum. I know where Jolly and Nick oftentimes find their mushrooms."  
  
Perhaps Rose had volunteered too eagerly for she earned a curious look from her mother before she nodded approval. Rose went to fetch her coat but Pippin was far ahead of her, snatching it off the rack eagerly and presenting it to her with a flourish. This was getting ridiculous. Both she and Frodo rolled their eyes. Mrs. Cotton chuckled and shook her head before continuing about her duties in the kitchen.  
  
Rose was thankful nothing forestalled their journey down the road to the small creek that ran through the forest's edge. Frodo walked beside her with his hands in his pockets and his face upturned toward the evening sky, already growing rosy in hue. Pippin had strolled a little further ahead as if he was half eager to get to the destination first. Frodo seemed to realize that such a contest would be ridiculous since it was Rose that must lead them anyway. He smiled to himself but that was the only hint he gave toward his amusement.  
  
Rose led them into a close copse of trees, they were thin and young and their branches were pretty low but not low enough for a hobbit to need to duck beneath one. The ground beneath them became rocky and stooped downward leading toward some great grey stones that sat beside the little stream. Rose wrapped a hand around a tree trunk and swung herself to the left, knowing that there was a small damp place where the trees were older and the foliage was thicker, an absolute goldmine for mushrooms. As she did so Frodo smoothly stopped her with a hand about her waist again. She was becoming rather irritated with their chivalry now. She most certainly did not trip, she was quite capable.  
  
"Mr. Baggins," she turned to him but he simply pointed down. She followed his gaze to see a patch of dark and leafy growth where she would have stepped. She turned a confused eye to him and he pointed at one of the leaves.  
  
"Three leaves," he said softly. "Poison Ivy, it would give you a nasty itch if it should touch your skin. It has an oil on the leaves, Bilbo taught me. If it has three leaves you should not go near it. It leaves a red splotched rash on your skin that takes quite a long time to go away. Even if the oil were to get on your clothes, if you were to touch your clothes afterward you may still get the irritation. It's not hurtful really just a nuisance."  
  
"Oh," was the only response she could make before stepping around it. She turned again to look at the two hobbits that were following her. Pippin was scowling.  
  
The little creek swerved before them but it was small and shallow and Rose simply lifted her skirts slightly and stepped through it, the water reaching only her ankles. Within five steps she had cleared it easily. Pippin had another idea. He spotted a few small rocks that wove within the water making a few paths if you looked at it right enough. Cunningly he stepped upon a rock, then another, hopping diligently from stone to stone. Frodo quirked an eyebrow, examined the stones before him and followed suite, but he chose a different path of stones, one that looked much more stable to him.  
  
Pippin saw that this was much too easy and made things more complex. He hopped now, on one foot, from stone to stone. Frodo lifted his left leg and did the same. Pippin stuck out his tongue, then almost lost his balance, checked himself and continued on. Frodo chose the swifter path and with one last hop made it safely to the other side, grinning. Pippin hopped onto the last stone in his path, wobbled, dipped, struggled to regain balance and slipped. Frodo reached out a hand and caught his youngest cousin with a smirk. Pippin's outrage was such that he cried out, "You cheated you wretched prat!"  
  
Frodo's eyes darkened and let Pippin lose with a wave of his hand. Rose cringed as she heard a splash followed by more Tookish outrage. Frodo was standing, his soaking wet cousin at his feet, with his hands folded across his chest and a smouldering look in his eyes. "That will perhaps teach you to speak appropriately to your elders, especially in front of a lady." A sparkle of taunting amusement lit up the Baggins's self-satisfied smile.  
  
"Hoy! What's goin on!" Rose turned to see Jolly and Nick approaching carrying two baskets of mushrooms.  
  
"Pippin needed to clean his dirty mouth, isn't that right Pip?" replied Frodo over his shoulder.  
  
Pippin waved an accusatory finger at his cousin muttering, "You –! You –!"  
  
"You're in the middle of the creek, cousin, do get out so we may enjoy Mrs. Cotton's supper while it's still hot."  
  
Rose gulped. The way back home was silent but she knew Pippin was brooding and something told her the rules just changed.  
  
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Things were quiet and serene for the rest of the night. Somehow that struck fear in Rose's heart. She wondered if she should warn Frodo who seemed quite pleased with himself for the rest of the evening. He was downright cocky and Pippin would not let such humiliation go unpunished. Rose wondered quietly if Frodo knew what sort of wrath he had incurred. Warning him would do no good, she's had too much experience to know that. That would simply prompt him to retaliate prematurely. And it would be an out and out declaration of exactly whose side she was on in this ridiculous war of testicular fortitude.  
  
Rose went to bed uneasy that night. For some reason she could not understand she dreamt of stags bucking antlers all that night.  
  
When she awoke the next day she quickly went about helping her mother make first breakfast. As she went about frying bacon and sausage and cracking eggs Rose could nto help but throw cautious glances toward the door to the guest room. The silence from within seemed ominous. She did not know what to expect and her heart fluttered in anticipation of it. She tried to entertain herself with thoughts that Pippin had simply accepted defeat from his much older and much more experienced cousin. Even with her limited knowledge of the stubbornness of Tooks she knew this would not be so. The sun was just rising when Pippin burst out of the room he shared with Frodo and into the kitchen. "Good morrow, ladies," he said cheerfully. A little too cheerfully.  
  
"Good mornin', Master Peregrin," said Mrs. Cotton as she kneaded an amorphous lump of bread doh. Rose's eyes darted toward the closed bedroom door then back to Pippin's smirking face. She narrowed her eye, recognized the smell of burning bacon, and hastily returned her attention back to breakfast. Pippin sat at the table and grabbed an apple from the basket, shined it and smiled at his reflection in it before taking a big juicy bite.  
  
There was a dubious silence save for the sizzling of bacon and the chewing of Peregrin until with a great roaring slam the door to the guest room blasted open and a menacing shout of "Peregrin Took!" shook the smial. Mrs. Cotton froze and looked up. Rose jumped and dropped an egg that splattered on the floor at her feet. Pippin choked on his apple.  
  
Frodo stormed into the kitchen, his arms stiff at his sides save for the occasional spasm where one shot up to viciously scratch at his neck or chest or arm. "Why am I so itchy, Pippin?! I wonder why I'm so itchy! Can you figure it out, Pip, because it's a mystery to me!" Frodo's eyes were dark, burning with a deep heated fire. His lips were curled into a feral sneer that flashed teeth at Pip in a terrifying way. A storm was at his brow and the stiff jerky movements of his body spoke of a hidden strength that was barely kept in check.  
  
Pippin shrugged innocently. "Why, cousin, I haven't the faintest. Perhaps you have fleas."  
  
"Fleas!" roared Frodo, "I'll show you fleas you miserable mongrel of a Took!"  
  
"Mr. Frodo!" Mrs. Cotton shouted sternly waving a wooden spoon accusingly at the two young hobbits. Frodo immediately swallowed his anger and took a step away from his cousin. He looked like a guilty pup, chastised by his master. He clasped his hands behind his back like a boy at school and cast his eyes downward. Rose put her hand to her mouth to stay her giggles.  
  
"Mr. Frodo," continued Mrs. Cotton a little more gently. "T'ain't never heard you speak like such a ruffian, such a polite and well mannered lad as you. Now p'raps you have a rash on you." Frodo blushed deeply. "I don't see what Master Peregrin could have done, nor why he would a done it at that."  
  
The three younger hobbits in the room immediately searched for something interesting to focus on besides Mrs. Cotton's face. They all knew why he would have done it. Pippin, seeing that he was in the clear, tossed his bitten apple into the hands of his cousin and patted his back good- naturedly, "You see Frodo, a rash. With skin as fair and sensitive as your own it's very likely–"  
  
Frodo's eyes locked on Pippin's in a black stare before he turned them back to the floor again and absently attempted to scratch his back with little avail. Rose saw, beneath Frodo's blush, a red splotchy rash on his cheeks. In his haste to wring his troublesome cousin's neck he had neglected to button his shirt all the way and Rose saw the splotches on his chest as well.  
  
Frodo seemed to notice his own indisposed appearance and retreated back to his room to clean up and fix his clothes which he had further twisted in his attempts to scratch his neck and back. Rose eyed a snickering Pippin with slight amusement before shaking her head and going back to making breakfast.  
  
Rose could have sworn she heard Frodo grumble a number of interesting threats when her mother was not around to chastise him. Some made her blush but most made her giggle to imagine.  
  
"Cheeky little sod, I'll stuff you in your pillow at night and give you such a beating."  
  
That afternoon Mrs. Cotton examined Frodo much to his further embarrassment and made him apply a heady smelling salve to his rash declaring it was a bad case of poison ivy he must have gotten in the woods the other day and then promptly chastised him on not being able to recognize the plant. Pippin was snickering into his sleeve the whole day. When Mrs. Cotton left Frodo grabbed Pippin by the collar and whispered venomously into his ear:  
  
"You insolent little git, I'll tie you to a tree by your ankle and beat you like a filthy rug. You went out and smothered my bed sheets in that plant, didn't you?"  
  
Pippin shrugged, snorted and responded innocently, "I'd never do such a thing." He placed a hand over his heart and pouted. "And I'm insulted that you would think me so base!"  
  
Rose thought she heard Frodo growl.  
  
Frodo was forced to bear that sickeningly fragrant salve all day and Rose's brothers joked and snickered saying, "Frodo, dear, you smell sweet as a blossom." Frodo just shot a withering look toward Pippin and grumbled something that sounded like:  
  
"You pompous ass, wait till I get you home. I'll box those ears so that you hear ringing for weeks."  
  
By evening Mr. Cotton and his boys helped Frodo reload his cart and Frodo bid his goodbyes as dignified as he possibly could before grabbing his cousin by his collar and dragging him back to the cart, tossing him in with one heave and bidding a swift goodbye and muttering under his breath:  
  
"You'll pay for this injustice, Peregrin Took."  
  
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Sam arrived early to Bag-End as usual. Frodo had returned the night before with his young cousin, Peregrin Took. Before Frodo set out to Tuckborough he had told Sam that the young Took would be coming to visit and then went about the simple instructions on the care for Bag-End while he was gone. Sam was glad his master was back. He enjoyed their talks over breakfast before Sam went out to the garden. He missed Frodo sitting on the porch telling tales aloud while Sam worked.  
  
When he got there he was surprised to see his master already awake and drinking tea quite contently at the kitchen table. "Good morrow, Sam. How have you been these past days?" Frodo asked brightly.  
  
"Things have gone the same round here, Mr. Frodo," said Sam looking around. "Where's Mr. Pippin? Weren't he coming back with you?"  
  
"Oh yes," said Frodo hurriedly, setting down his teacup and smiling a secretive grin. "Come let's have a magnificent welcome home breakfast. I'm famished. Here I'll give you a hand, Sam." Frodo got up and began taking out some pots and pans. Sam put some water up to boil and went to the pantry for some jams. When he returned he set them on the counter top and then sniffed the air.  
  
"Master, do I smell-- ?"  
  
Frodo clenched his teeth together. "Yes, Mrs. Cotton's ointment. I seem to have a bit of a case of Poison Ivy."  
  
Sam examined his master more closely and recognized the red rash on his cheeks. "Oh sir, how'd that happen?"  
  
"No matter, Sam."  
  
And so the matter was quickly closed and breakfast was made in relative silence, a bit to Sam's unease. He was eager to tell Frodo the small comings and goings that went about Hobbiton while he was gone and Frodo listened raptly but when it came time for Frodo to tell his own tale of his little journey he said little. Breakfast was definitely enjoyable with plenty of choices of jams and breads, with a great abundance of eggs and sausages. Frodo set up another pot of tea and by the time all things were enjoyed and cleaned it was well past the time Sam normally set out to work in the garden.  
  
"Well, sir, I suppose I've got quite a bit of catching up to do."  
  
"Please don't worry yourself, Sam, I am glad to have had your company for breakfast. I missed your hobbit sense dearly."  
  
"Will you be coming out to the garden today, sir?"  
  
"Perhaps later. I've plans to catch up on some reading in the study. I have a pretty quiet, peaceful, and uneventful afternoon planned." Frodo began walking down the hallway toward the study.  
  
Sam raised an eyebrow curiously. "I see."  
  
Frodo, as if suddenly remembering something, popped his head out from the study, "Oh and, Sam? If you see anything dangling from the tree by its wicked-little-trouble-making-hobbit foot," Frodo took a breath and then smiled sweetly, "No worries."  
  
Sam blinked and shook his head as he went out the door. 


End file.
